Island in a Sea of Sand
by My blue rose
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi never intended to be a father. He never intended to be a moisture farmer, either. But when he arrives on the Lars homestead to find Owen and Beru slain by Sand people, he finds himself raising Luke, the galaxy's best hope of defeating the Empire, on a desert planet thousands of light years from his friends and allies.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This story was inspired by the fic Five Things That Never Happened to Luke Skywalker by Rynne on the force dot net—check it out!**

* * *

_To sleep! _

_Perchance to dream: _

_aye, there's the rub;_

_For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,_

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil_

_Must give us pause: there's the respect _

_That makes calamity of so long life. _

~ Hamlet, Act III, Scene I, William Shakespeare

**Prologue: This Beautiful and Desolate Land**

The wind that tugs at Obi-Wan's cloak and flings dust in his eyes is uncomfortably hot, even as Tatooine's two suns begin to set. It does nothing to remove the stench of death from the Lars homestead. A scent he has grown too well accustomed to, during the long years of the Clone Wars. The Tusken Raiders have left Beru and Owen's bodies stripped naked, their flesh mortifying quickly in the desert heat.

He is too late. He is always too late.

The infant boy in his arms starts squalling as if he could sense the deaths of his aunt and uncle. Perhaps he can. He is strong in the Force, this one, just like Anikin had been—No, he cannot think of that; not now. He has responsibilities. He hushes the child and sends him to sleep with a gentle Force suggestion. It takes him most of the night to dig by hand two graves through the hard packed sand.

Watching the brilliant suns rise in this beautiful and desolate land, he knows it is worth it.


	2. Chapter One

"_In ancient shadows and twilights  
_

_Where childhood had strayed,  
_

_The world's great sorrows were born  
_

_And its heroes were made.  
_

_In the lost boyhood of Judas  
_

_Christ was betrayed."  
_

~ George William Russell

**Chapter One: Exile**

He is not a farmer.

Though once, many years ago, he might have been were it not for his master. It has been a month since the man calling himself Ben Lars, the lost spacer cousin of Owen Lars, has taken over the Lars homestead. The neighbors are suspicious at first. It seems rather convenient to them that a man shows up claiming to be the son of the late Edern Lars on the same day the Sand People murder the young couple.

They wonder if this Ben, with his refined Core world's accent and elegant manners, has what it takes to survive near the edge of the Jundland Wastes. By the end of the month, the farm's sixty three vaporators are working better than they ever have. Visited daily by the man in his brown cloak, a baby strapped to his chest, he performs minor miracles with his maintenance.

The moister farmers respect hard workers and their wives coo and fuss over baby Luke. The men ask him to look at their vaporators in exchange for parts and, more valuably, information on how to run a good moisture farm. The men now see him at him as an equal and offer him Pallie wine when he visits. The women serve him ahrisa and give him their old cloth for him to make his own garments and linens. They tell him that it is a strange man who sews clothes for himself and his son.

He is not a father but he does not correct them.

A father and young son are less likely to draw attention from the Empire than a man fitting his description would by himself. When a girl gathers the courage to ask where is little Luke's mother, the expression on his face is enough to confirm their worst fears. The girl apologizes and says his wife must have been a beautiful woman to produce such a handsome boy and that he must miss her very much.

He does not correct her either.


	3. Chapter Two

_What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow_

_Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, _

_You cannot say, or guess, for you know only_

_A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,_

_And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, _

_And the dry stone no sound of water. Only_

_There is shadow under this red rock,_

_(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),_

_And I will show you something different from either_

_Your shadow at morning striding behind you_

_Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;_

_I will show you fear in a handful of dust._

~T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

**Chapter Two:** **A Handful of Dust - Part One**

Six months later he is feeling a little overwhelmed. Luke is crawling now, and he is a curious child. He is close to exasperated as he gives the boy his third bath of the day. The youngling had somehow found, and attempted to eat, some raw dung worms. Which, as it happens, smell like their name implies.

The boy is oblivious to Obi-Wan's consternation. He shrieks happily as the sonic shower head tickles his skin, blue eyes wide, his small shock of blond hair askew. Obi-Wan shakes he head, laughing. Luke is such a good natured child. Admittedly, whenever he fees that the boy is sad or scared he calms him down immediately with a soothing Force presence.

This, Obi-wan suspects, is an unfair advantage that he has over most parents.

He knows he can no longer put off his trip into town. He has avoided it so far; his neighbors do not mind picking up whatever he needs when they head out to Anchorhead. But the hydroponic stations were now full to bursting with vegetables: Bloddle, Podpoppers, Hubba gourds, Tatoes and Driss flowers; with plenty of sweet fruit: Pallies, Bristlemelon and Pika.

He needs to find a buyer for his produce and surplus water; something he must do in person. He has left it late as it is, the other moisture farmers have told him. He knows why he has not left yet—Jedi are taught to_ know_ themselves above all else—and his reason is selfish. He does not want to know anything about what is happening in the galaxy.

The farm has become his refuge, little Luke, his savior. It is hard to despair about his former apprentice and the state of the galaxy under Sith rule when there are vaporators to repair, crops to tend and, most of all, a force sensitive infant to care for. Luke is normally a happy, quiet child but if he senses Obi-Wan's distress he will scream for hours.

This is why he is leaving the youngling with a family that lives on a moisture farmer near Anchorhead: the Sunber's. They have a boy named Janek, who is a few years older than Luke; he would even go so far as to call them friends. They haveH'Kak bean tea together once a week.

It is Luke's first time away from him.

As he departs on his eopie, Luke's shrieks twist a knot in his stomach. He has often wondered if being so close to the boy is creating an attachment that is bad—and _dangerous_. There is a reason Jedi were raised in a crèche, without parents.

Now, for the first time, he wonders if _he_ is dangerously attached to the boy.


	4. Chapter Three

_What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow_

_Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, _

_You cannot say, or guess, for you know only_

_A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,_

_And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, _

_And the dry stone no sound of water. Only_

_There is shadow under this red rock,_

_(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),_

_And I will show you something different from either_

_Your shadow at morning striding behind you_

_Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;_

_I will show you fear in a handful of dust._

~ T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

**Chapter Three:** **A Handful of Dust - Part Two**

He arrives in the dusty town and is surprised that it has not changed since his arrival months ago. Was it only months? It feels like years. Lifetimes. He pulls the hood of his course woven cloak over his head. It would not do to be recognized.

The cantina is much like others he has been in on a myriad of worlds. Dimly lit with a greasy scent to the recycled air, which is at least cold. He sits down. A short balding man with a scruffy beard walks up to him after giving him a calculating onceover with his eyes.

"M'name's Castor Pollox, an this here's my place. You're a moister farmer, eh? What can I get ya."

"An Eopie brisket and water, please. I am also looking for a buyer for my crops."

Castor strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Bit late for that, but I'll see what I can do."

He returns some time later with his food and a man with dark hair who emanates suspicion in the Force. He says his name is Huff Darklighter, and his voice is terse with barely concealed contempt. He does not ask for Obi-Wan's name. They spend a better part of an hour haggling, but the man never gives an offer that is not seriously beneath the value of his crop.

The man radiates distain and anger in the Force; and under that…_ fear_. He is tempted to Force suggest the man. He feels guilty about even entertaining such thoughts but he and little Luke _need_ the money from this sale or they will lose the farm in the near future.

"Friend, we both know you have not offered a single fair price for my goods. What have I done to offend you?"

He ends the sentence with a subtle hand wave, giving him the Force compulsion to answer truthful. Darklighter's face twists and he pulls something out of his tunic pocket and slams it on the table. It is a picture of a humanoid completely cove in black armor. As Obi-Wan stares into the helmeted eyes, so reminiscent of the clone troopers, he knows with a certainty that come from the Force whom it is. The thought sends a thrill of hope and anguish down his spine.

_Oh Anakin, what have you become?_


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:** **One of my goals for this fic is to keep it as canon as possible. I have spent time researching online and have read many of the EU novels (go Mara Jade!) so far everything and everyone I have mentioned is canon with the exception of one necessary OC.**

* * *

_What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow_

_Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, _

_You cannot say, or guess, for you know only_

_A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,_

_And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, _

_And the dry stone no sound of water. Only_

_There is shadow under this red rock,_

_(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),_

_And I will show you something different from either_

_Your shadow at morning striding behind you_

_Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;_

_I will show you fear in a handful of dust._

~ T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

**Chapter Four:** **A Handful of Dust - Part Three**

His face carefully neutral, Obi-Wan rips his eyes from the picture and stares at Darklighter. The man's hostility toward him has increased—in the Force he burns like a furnace. More importantly, his right hand is hovering near his trouser pocket where Obi-Wan can see the outline of a blaster.

"I do not see how _this_," he gestures at the picture. "Has anything to do with me."

"You deny you are an agent of the Republic? That your farmers disguise is another attempt buy my silence? I have told you people I will not condone a garrison of troops here no matter what our new_ Emperor_ and his pet rancor says." He shoots the picture a dirty look.

"I see," He has the urge to laugh at this misunderstanding but feels that Darklighter would not appreciate it.

"And if I were to tell you that I am not working for the Republic in any capacity but am truly a farmer with crops to sell?

The man snorts incredulously but seems less hostile. He sits down opposite him and returns the picture to his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at him skeptically.

"How do you explain your accent if you're just a farmer?"

"I was not born here." He states simply.

"That is obvious," Darklighter scowls. "Who are you and where _were_ you born."

Obi-Wan pauses, taking a drink of water. He had fabricated a backstory within a few day of his arrival on Tatooine. He has yet to truly use it as the other farmers are respectful of privacy and were content with the few answers he gave them. The main benefits of the story he has come up with is that it is hard to verify and gives him familial claim to the Lars farm. But no background is infallible.

"I am Ben Lars—"

"Oh! You're the one who moved in after the Sand People attacked? The one with the kid?

"Yes. My father was Edern Lars, Owen's brother. He died when he fourteen. My mother was only a year older and as soon as she found out she was pregnant she got passage on a cargo ship and became a part of the crew. I grew up on that ship.

It mostly ran luxury goods on the Corelia Run and all of the crew except my mother were from the core worlds. That is why I speak with a core world's accent. I am starting over here. I truly need you to purchase my crops. Luke and I need the money."

"Luke? Is that your son?" He nods, takes a deep breath and sips some water. Darklighter has been listening intently and he can tell by the man Force presence that he believes his story. So far, at least.

"I believe you. Aright, I'll buy, but I'm doing this more for your kid than for you. But answer me this, Why did you come here? You aren't a farmer. You should have stayed on your ship." Obi-Wan looks at Darklighter with haunted eyes and, in a voice little more than a whisper, speaks truthfully.

"I lost everything in the war…"


	6. Chapter Five

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
_

_And sorry I could not travel both  
_

_And be one traveler, long I stood  
_

_And looked down one as far as I could  
_

_To where it bent in the undergrowth;_

_Then took the other, as just as fair,_

_And having perhaps the better claim_

_Because it was grassy and wanted wear,_

_Though as for that the passing there_

_Had worn them really about the same,_

_And both that morning equally lay_

_In leaves no step had trodden black._

_Oh, I marked the first for another day!_

_Yet knowing how way leads on to way_

_I doubted if I should ever come back._

_I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference._

~ Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

**Chapter Five: Father**

It has been ten months since he has taken over the moisture farm and the middle of the second growing season on Tatooine. The hydroponic stations need almost constant attention. Six of the farm's vaporators have broken down and worse, it is the dry season: the atmospheric water content is down several percent. This has forced him to buy water from other farmers or risk losing his crop.

He has spent the last seven days, from dawn to dusk, fixing the vaporators. He has left Luke at the Sunber's for the week. He could not watch him with everything else he had to do. He has finished the repair work, at last, and is picking Luke up in the X-34 landspeeder he bought with some of the money from selling his first crop.

The Sunber's greet him cheerfully, offering him dinner to which he agrees. Their three year old son Janek tells him that he does not want Obi-Wan to take Luke back to his home—he wants to keep him as his little brother. His mother laughs and shakes her head.

"The second day Luke was here he said he hated him. He was afraid we were going to replace him!"

Dinner is wonderful, bantha steaks, Hubba bread and Deb-Deb wine. Luke lies on a blanket on the floor, chewing on a stuffed toy ronto. He scoops him up and hugs him, pleased with happiness the youngling is broadcasting loudly through the Force. The boy giggles as he strokes his hair that is unusually think on a child this young.

Janek's mother, smiling, asks Luke "Who is that?"

To Obi-Wan's astonishment the boy responds "Dada!"

He feels his chest constrict as the boy repeats the word. He recognizes with a start that he has not been teaching the boy to talk. They communicate through touch and the force. It did not occur to him that Luck was old enough to start speaking.

With another jolt of revelation, he realizes that he has not considered himself Luke's father. The boy is Anakin's son. He would not even be rearing him if the Tusken Raiders had not killed his aunt and uncle. He has never even referred to Luke as his son. People just assumed that he was. He looks into the boy's clear blue eyes. No, he has never considered himself Luke's father. Until now.

"Yes Luke," He says softly "I am your father."


	7. Chapter Six

_No man is an island,  
_

_Entire of itself.  
_

_Each is a piece of the continent,  
_

_A part of the main.  
_

_If a clod be washed away by the sea,  
_

_Europe is the less.  
_

_As well as if a promontory were.  
_

_As well as if a manor of thine own  
_

_Or of thine friend's were.  
_

_Each man's death diminishes me,  
_

_For I am involved in mankind.  
_

_Therefore, send not to know  
_

_For whom the bell tolls,  
_

_It tolls for thee. _

~ John Donne, No Man is an Island

**Chapter Six:****By Way of Sorrow**—**Part One**

Today is Luke's first birthday and the Lars home is full of people. Obi-Wan had intended to spend Luke's birthday the way Jedi usually spent theirs—or the way they had before the War—in meditation and introspection. However, when Mrs. Sunber discovered that he had no plans for Luke's "special day", she organized a small party to be held at their farm.

The Sunber's are there, of course, with their son Janek. Also, to Obi-Wan's surprise, is Darklighter and his wife and young son Biggs, who is Janek's age. His neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Marstrap are there too with their son Windom, who is a month younger than Luke.

He serves them dust crêpes and nausage with pallie wine, all grown in his hydroponic stations. The women compliment him on his cooking, the men on his wine. There is the usual talk about crops and weather along with a good amount of joking and teasing. He feels Luke's presence still humming cheerfully through the Force as he uses Obi-Wan's chair to help him stand.

"Daddy!" he shrieks happily.

"I swear, that's Luke's favorite word!" Mrs. Sunber says laughing.

"Yes!" the boy says—it is the latest word he has learned—and everyone around the table laughs.

Picking up the youngling and putting him in his lap, he realizes that for the first time in a long while… since before the war… since before the death of his master… he feels content. The anguish he felt at Anakin's betrayal, the pain of the deaths of his friends and their way of life... The sorrow is still there.

But he no longer spends each day thinking about his regrets or what he could have done differently. He has finally learned what his master was always telling him: live in the present. Looking down at the child—_his son_—he knows this is his doing. There is little time for self-recrimination when one has a Force sensitive infant to care for. It reminds him of something his master once said.

"_All of life's most valuable lessons are learned by way of sorrow."_


	8. Chapter Seven

_No man is an island,  
_

_Entire of itself.  
_

_Each is a piece of the continent,  
_

_A part of the main.  
_

_If a clod be washed away by the sea,  
_

_Europe is the less.  
_

_As well as if a promontory were.  
_

_As well as if a manor of thine own  
_

_Or of thine friend's were.  
_

_Each man's death diminishes me,  
_

_For I am involved in mankind.  
_

_Therefore, send not to know  
_

_For whom the bell tolls,  
_

_It tolls for thee._

~ John Donne, No Man is an Island

**Chapter Seven:****By Way of Sorrow**—**Part Two**

To Obi-Wan's mild surprise, the three families brought gifts for Luke. The Sunber's give him a package of Janek's old clothes. The Darklighter's present is a stuffed bantha only slightly smaller than Luke. And the Marstrap's gift is a soft, homemade cloth ball that is bantha milk blue. Touched, he thanks them profusely and promises to be at Windom's birthday next month.

The suns are setting by the time everyone leaves. The Sunber's and the Marstrap's have to get back to their farms, but the Darklighter's, who live in town, linger over tea. Mrs. Darklighter is attempting to placate a tired and fussy Biggs who did not get his nap today, while Mr. Darklighter and Obi-Wan obliquely discus the rumors of a rebellion being formed against the Empire.

He almost flinches when he hears that it is being led by two men called Ferus Olin and Garen Muln. Olin had been his friend's apprentice, one whom had often been in contention with his own. Not, he muses, without reason. He had also left the Jedi Order soon after becoming a knight over ideological differences.

Garen had been his good friend since he was a child in the Jedi crèche. A thrill of hope races through him. Garen is alive! He had not thought any of the Jedi Generals survived Order 66. And forming a rebellion? He wanted to laugh. That was just like Garen; and from what he can remember, was rather like Olin as well.

Obi-Wan thanks Darklighter for the information and bids them farewell. He walks over to where Luke is climbing over his new toy bantha, giggling happily. For the first time since he arrived here he is contemplating leaving. It would be fairly easy, he knows, to sell his farm and take Luke with him as he finds this rebellion. And perhaps even more of his friends are alive.

"Daddy!" Luke chirps to him, brows furrowed in frustration.

"Yes, Luke?" he answers, knowing that the boy does not expect a reply.

"Daddy!" he says and points to his new ball that has rolled under the table, the Force vibrating with the youngling's frustration.

Yes, it would not be hard to leave here. Luke is too young to have friends yet and if he is to be the one destined to defeat Vader, would it not be better for him to be reared among other Jedi? It would be dangerous, a voice whispers in his head. The Empire are not looking for them now but if word spreads that General Kenobi has a young child with him whose age tells that he was born not long after the Jedi had fallen…

The wrong people might take notice.

Luke's Force presence suddenly changes from frustration to triumph. Obi-Wan turns to see that Luke has crawled as close to the table as he could with all the chairs in the way, and with one small hand reaching out, was levitating the ball to himself. Obi-Wan watches, still and silent, until the boy grasps the ball in his hands and laughs.

He lets out a breath he had not known he was holding. Such power at that age… human Jedi did not usually start levitating things until they were at the least six standard years of age. Infants might telekinetically pull things, yes, but full, sustained levitation? The only person who might have been able to do that was… Anikin.

"Daddy!" the boy screeches, offering Obi-Wan his ball.

He sweeps the boy into his arms and cuddles him against his chest, savoring the contentment and safety the boy transmits through the force. No, as much as he desires to see his friend it would be too dangerous. And what would the Sunber's think of him leaving before the crops are in?

Holding the boy in his arms, he tries to teach Luke a new word.

"Home," he gestures around the room.

"Home," he repeats.

Luke is a quick learner, especially when he can sense Obi-Wan's intensity through the Force.

"Home!" the boy shouts.

"Yes, good boy, Luke." He boy smiles and looks up at him.

"Daddy home!"


	9. Chapter Eight

_My heart leaps up when I behold  
_

_A Rainbow in the sky:  
_

_So was it when my life began;  
_

_So is it now I am a man;  
_

_So be it when I shall grow old,  
_

_Or let me die!  
_

_The Child is father of the man;  
_

_And I wish my days to be  
_

_Bound each to each by natural piety._

~ William Wordsworth, My Heart Leaps Up

**Chapter Eight: Loyalties**

There is now an Imperial Garrison in Anchorhead; Corusant has been officially renamed Imperial Center and the Emperor is pressing the Imperial Senate to ratify galaxy wide restrictions on non-humanoid beings. Yet life on the Lars farmstead continued the same as it had eighteen standard months ago. True, Obi-Wan had been concerned when the garrison was first established last month, but his fears were unfounded.

The garrison was small with less than fifty troops, who were the recent graduates from Imperial Center's new Imperial Academy, commanded by a clone soldier. The recruits had graduated last in their class which was why they had been sent to Tatooine, a planet that was only recently added to the Empire and formed the outermost edge of the Emperor's control.

Obi-Wan had originally worried that the Clone Commander might recognize him, but he is not from the 501st or his own company and never served under him. And the owner of the Lars' farm little resembles the grim faced general from the wanted pictures on the holo-net. His auburn hair and beard are well trimmed but long; now streaked with copper highlights, bleached from long hours working under Tatooine's suns. His countenance is relaxed and his eyes often sparkle with mirth.

Luke is walking now. He can often be seen toddling after Obi-Wan in the evenings or chasing his blue ball around the courtyard of the house. He no longer goes into town now. Not because of the garrison and its troops but because he feels that he can no longer leave Luke with the Sunbers. The boy has a habit of levitating things he wants but cannot reach. This often leads to disastrous results at meal times.

Obi-Wan is conflicted. He cannot allow his neighbors to see the strange power his child has but Luke is too young to understand the need for discretion. Should he punish the boy for his actions? Luke is a fast learner and responds well to a slap on the wrist and a sense of Obi-Wan's displeasure through the Force. The part of him that is a father and wants to keep his son safe tells him this is the best course of action.

But the part of him that is a Jedi recoils at the thought of punishing a Force sensitive child for using their natural abilities in a way that causes no harm. He wishes he could contact his old master or even Yoda for advice. Yet despite his meditations his master has not appeared to him and contacting Yoda for such a trivial matter is foolishness that would endanger them all. In the end, he has been a Jedi longer than he has been a father. Even as Luke drenches himself and Obi-Wan in bantha milk from attempting to levitate his cup from across the table, he only laughs and dries the boy off.

And worries that he is more Jedi than father.


	10. Chapter Nine

_Some say the world will end in fire,  
_

_Some say in ice.  
_

_From what I've tasted of desire  
_

_I hold with those who favor fire.  
_

_But if it had to perish twice,  
_

_I think I know enough of hate  
_

_To say that for destruction ice  
_

_Is also great  
_

_And would suffice. _

Robert Frost, Fire and Ice

**Chapter Nine:****Fire & ****Ice**—**Part One**

The loose sand on the dune he is laying on is still warm from the heat of the day, despite the chill wind that blows grit overhead, obscuring the stars. In a few hours there will be a full blown sand storm thick enough to suffocate anyone out here. The blaster feels awkward and clumsy in his hand, though he handles it like someone long acquainted with its use. He draws comfort from the cylinder digging into his flank secreted in his tunic yet he knows he cannot use it.

Looking through a pair of macro binoculars that are older than he is, he can see the Tusken encampment hidden in a bowl shaped hollow made by the dunes. Their scouts have not spotted them; no doubt confident that the approaching storm will keep their enemies indoors. They would have been right had Obi-Wan not convinced his fellow moisture farmers otherwise.

The raiders had attacked a nearby farm two days before. No one was killed, but the farmer's sixteen year old son had lost several fingers to a blaster. After the murder of the Lars couple twenty-two months ago, all of the farmers desire retribution. Knowing that many would be killed in a straight confrontation with the Sand people, Obi-Wan offers to lead them, citing combat experience in the Clone Wars. As none of the farmers had ever even been off-world before, they agree.

He has arranged his makeshift army in an almost complete ring around the dunes. His plan is to attack them unaware from a good vantage point, and drive the noncombatants through the opening in the circle. The Tusken camp is perfect for this. The dune walls provide great cover from both enemy and friendly fire. He can almost hear himself lecturing to Anakin all those years ago:

_Know your enemy._

He knows the Tusken women and children will run for safety while the men will attack. He has ordered his own men not to shoot at anyone fleeing for the gap in their defense. Instead they are to concentrate there fire on the Banthas. Sand People bond with their Bantha's as children and when their animal dies they often follow.

Gazing at the camp below, he takes carful aim with the blaster. A red bolt of light flies from the tip of his weapon and hits a Tusken clad in sand colored fabric in the chest, felling him instantly. The night lights up with the fire and buzz from energy weapons.

_One last battle_, he tells himself. And aims again.


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N: I went back and cleaned up the old chapters a bit, nothing too big mostly grammatical changes. I'm going to try and update this story more frequently, but between my new job, my creative writing class and my computer dying on me, I'm not sure how successful I will be. Oh, and Luke is twenty-two months old in this and last chapter (and the next one!). Sorry there was some confusion about this, I obviously did not make it clear enough.**

* * *

_I saw the vision of armies;_

_ And I saw, as in noiseless dreams, hundreds of battle-flags;_

_ Borne through the smoke of the battles, and pierc'd with missiles,_

_ I saw them, And carried hither and yon through the smoke, and torn and bloody; _

_And at last but a few shreds left on the staffs, (and all in silence,) And the staffs all splinter'd and broken. _

_I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, _

_And the white skeletons of young men—I saw them;_

_ I saw the debris and debris of all the dead soldiers of the war; _

_But I saw they were not as was thought; They themselves were fully at rest—they suffer'd not; _

_The living remain'd and suffer'd—the mother suffer'd, _

_And the wife and the child, and the musing comrade suffer'd, _

_And the armies that remain'd suffer'd. _

~Walt Whitman, When Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom'd (Stanza 18)

**Chapter Nine:****Fire & ****Ice**—**Part Two**

The fight is going well. The steady stream of fire from the farmers on the dunes has caused the Tusken bantha herd to stampede through the gap left open in their defensive circle, just as planned. The women and children follow not willing to abandon their animals. Obi-Wan knows that there is another dune hollow like this one several kilometers away, and that they will take refuge in from the approaching sand storm.

The men however take cover as best they can behind their tent shelters and fire back with Tusken Cyclers. The resulting battle is chaotic and deafening with the bellowing of wounded banthas, the yells of men and Tuskens and the sharp crack of the Cyclers. The dark night is lit with the red light of blaster bolts. It is over in less than ten minutes.

The farmers are victorious, not because of their skill with blasters but because Tusken Cyclers are long distance weapons. The slugthrowers are slow firing and hold less twenty rounds and work best at ranges over two hundred meters. The hollow they are in is little over half that and the men on the dunes are well protected by the sand.

Obi-Wan shouts, telling everyone to remain were they are. He cautiously descends the slope of the dune into the encampment. Bodies are lying on the ground, eerie with the light of three moons reflecting off their goggles. He stops at the corpse of a Tusken too small to be anything other than a youngling.

The blood soaking her robe appears black in the moonlight. He knew this would happen. But it does not stop the grief he feels and he is powerless to prevent the tears that come. The farmers on the dunes start to cheer and he cannot help the surge of anger that washes over him, nor the dark thoughts that follow.

They are not his people and this is not his war.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled, That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust. If we who sight along it round the world, See nothing worthy to have been its mark, It is because like men we look too near, Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, Our missiles always make too short an arc. They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect The curve of earth, and striking, break their own; They make us cringe for metal-point on stone. But this we know, the obstacle that checked And tripped the body, shot the spirit on Further than target ever showed or shone._

A Soldier by Robert Frost

**Chapter Eleven:****Fire &****Ice**—**Part Three**

Preoccupied with his grief he almost does not notice the frisson of warning the Force sends through his nerves. However, the Clone Wars have honed his instincts so that he throws himself a meter to his right without truly being conscious of doing so. This is a fortunate thing, as a split second latter the mace head of a gaffi stick strikes the hard packed sand and would surely have bludgeoned him to death had he remained where he was standing.

Obi-Wan instinctually reaches for his lightsaber only to remember that it is not on his belt. It is hidden in his tunic and he cannot use it. Not with the men on the dunes watching and screaming at him. He only hopes that they have the sense no to shoot. None of them are good enough with a blaster that they would not risk hitting him as well as the Tusken, who is now jabbing at him with the spear point on the end of the mace.

He dodges the strikes easily, back stepping, trying to put space between him and his opponent while withdrawing his blaster from its holster. Then, with alarming speed, the Tusken swipes at him with the curved end of his gaffi stick that has a hook on it. It caches his blaster sending it flying from his hand. Obi-Wan twists his body as the mace end comes up swiftly towards his face, but is not fast enough. One of the mace's sharpened flanges hits him on the side of the head, sending him reeling to the ground.

Vision swimming, clutching his head with one hand, Obi-Wan narrowly avoids another killing blow by rolling, the gaffi stick hitting the sand next to him with a dull thump. His head hurts, it is hard to think straight and he wants to throw up. _I have a concussion…_ he has had them before, of course, but not in the middle of a fight like this. Once again the Force saves him as he senses the vicious thrust with the spear end of the Tusken weapon and avoids it by performing an awkward backward summersault.

_It would be easy, so easy, to just give in_, a voice whispers in his mind as he eludes another assault. He is tired. So tired. No one would blame him if he decides to end it now. His friends are dead, so is the man he loved as a father. And the man he loved as a brother betrayed him and all he held dear. All he has to do is stop fighting. Just give up. Just this once.

_I never knew you to be a coward_, another voice in his head, one that sounds like his old master, speaks.

_Haven't I done enough!_ He tells the voice, truly angry for the first time since he has been on Tatooine.

_No,_ _not yet_, the voice responds simply. _Death is the selfish way out. It is often much harder to live than to die._

_After all I have done I deserve some selfishness!_ He answers bitterly.

_And what of the boy? Would you abandon him too?_

Obi-Wan skitters backward to evade the hook of the gaffi stick. Abandon Luke? Suddenly he is no longer fighting for is life in the cold dark on the edge of the Jundland Wastes. He is in a small warm kitchen, siting in the lap of Mrs. Sunber, and crying hard as the woman murmurs soothing words.

_Luke? _The little boy stops crying instantly.

_Daddy!_ The thought is bright and clear, suffused with relief that his father is alright and with delight that he is talking but not with his voice. Obi-Wan hears himself gasp and it sounds far away. This is not the usual emotional sensations that he and Luke normally engaged in. This is true telepathy, this feels like an apprentice bond. _But a Force bond with one so young, and over such distance?_ He marvels.

_Daddy come home now?_ The boy asks.

_Soon,_ he promises, closing the telepathic link between them.

He stands swiftly, making the Tusken hesitate. He presses this advantage by grabbing the hand holding the gaffi stick and yanking it towards him. His opponent stumbles forward, off balance. Obi-Wan wrenches the Tusken's arm behind its back as it falls to the ground, yelling when the bones in its forearm break from the strain. He scoops up the gaffi stick from the ground and dispassionately clubs the Tusken in the head with it.

Staggering slightly he walks back to the edge of the hollow where many of the men have gathered. They look at him and he can see the relief and respect in the eyes of the older ones and awe and what might be hero worship in the eyes of the younger ones. Deciding he does not want anyone attempting to replicate his actions, he sits down and emits a groan that is not entirely feigned. The men scramble to give him something to drink and to take a look at his head, which has stopped bleeding but not before covering his hand and half his face in blood.

"I underestimated him." He says to no one in particular.

"Maybe, but we've never seen anyone do anything like that before!" Says an enthusiastic man who has just barely of age.

"Yeah! Could you teach us how to do that?" asks another young man.

Obi-Wan winces as one of the older farmers applies a bacta patch to his head. Teach farm boys unarmed combat? The idea had some merit, what with all the Tusken raiders and Imperial storm troopers about. And perhaps he could do something about their accuracy with their blasters. Luke would have to take priority but with their new bond, his concerns about having to hide the boy's Force talents are no longer so pressing. He can teach the boy control in a way he can understand. He opens his mind to Luke, whom he finds resting peacefully on a cot, not quite asleep.

_Would you like to become my apprentice, young one?_

_What's a 'prentice?_ A sleepy mental voice responds.

_An apprentice is someone who learns from someone in order to become like them._

_I want to be like daddy!_

_Then, my new Padawan, sleep. _He sends a light Force suggestion to sleep through their bond and answers a questioning tendril of thought from the boy.

_I will come for you soon. Fear not, all is well._


	13. Chapter Twelve

**A/N: I had a problem with finding out how long Tatooine's years and days are as it isn't actually stated the any of the cannon. Other plants in binary star system's that have P-type orbits (planets that orbit both stars, not just one) have either long orbital periods (years) or short ones. This could be from lack of data as there are only 14 confirmed P-type orbit plants discovered so far or it could just be the nature of that type of orbit. I don't know enough astronomy. So I decided to make Tatooine's orbital period shorter than Earth's with the equivalent of 308 days with a rotation period (day) of 20 hours (and for convince, a 7 day week). This doesn't affect ages because most beings use Corusant Standard Time to keep track of their age and a Corusant year is (canonically) 368 days long.**

* * *

_My mother groand! my father wept,  
Into the dangerous world I leapt:  
Helpless, naked, piping loud:  
Like a fiend hid in a cloud._

_Struggling in my fathers hands:_  
_Striving against my swaddling bands:_  
_Bound and weary I thought best_  
_To sulk upon my mother's breast._

~ Infant Sorrow by William Blake

**Chapter Twelve: ****Infant Sorrow **

It is one month after Luke's second birthday, which had been a repeat of last year's small affair, and the Lars courtyard is full of people. There are twenty or so men, all younger than Obi-Wan, with their wives, girlfriends and children. Three months ago, after the battle with the Sand People, Obi-Wan started giving lessons in unarmed combat, shooting, and even some military strategy, to the moister farmers.

There had been more of an interest than Obi-Wan expected. Since then, he has been made the Commander of the Freedom Militia, somewhat against his will. He is now training his 'troops' five times a week with two beginner groups, two intermediate groups and the advanced group, whom were all here today. The Militia now has over one hundred members, primarily men between the ages of fourteen and thirty five but also has a handful of girls. Obi-wan knew these really joined to see fit young men running around but as it improves their overall performance, he cannot see the harm in it.

The first day there were fifteen young men, all who had seen him fight the Tuskens, carrying their slugthrowers, which they mostly used to shoot womprats, over their shoulders. The next class, over twice as many people showed up, mostly the brothers and cousins of the first group. However, there were some older men, all of whom had helped him against the Raiders. He held meetings in the afternoon, when Luke is napping, he day is cooling down and most of the work on the farms is over. He has them run laps and stretch, teaches them martial arts stances and assureds them it will get easier with time. He has also set up a small shooting range behind the house so the men can work on their aim and speed.

Obi-Wan always ends each meeting with a reiteration of the theory behind self-defense and the reason why he is teaching it. He work then hard, but not unduly so for he is mindful that they are not Jedi or soldiers. Nevertheless he maintains discipline and make sure all are treated with respect. His men heed him or else they are prohibited from attending.

He is happier than he can remember being. He had forgotten how much he enjoys teaching and how much he misses the company of other warriors, even if they are only in training. Only he is now so busy that his farm is beginning to suffer and Luke, who has never had to share Obi-Wan with others before, has developed a worrying jealousy toward others. For these reasons, he is holding a dinner today to work out a schedule with his advanced class so they will take over the beginner classes. He believes he can manage three classes a week.

Through their bond, he can feel Luke's anger as another youngling takes his blue ball he is playing with. Sensing the child's intention, he walks over and scoops his son up before he can use the Force to shove the other boy. This is another concerning development. Luke will often lash out with the Force when he is angry. If it were not for the bond between then there would be no way to keep his talents a secret.

_No_, he says firmly though their link.

"Want ball! Mine!" The boy says out loud, his desire and anger roiling though the bond.

"You must share your things, Luke." He suffuses the link with waves of calm. The boy is having none of it, and sends back a wash of negative emotions: fear of so many people and disturbingly, resentment at not being allowed to punish the boy who took his toy.

_You must_ never _use the Force to hurt others! _His own fear and frustration make the thought more forceful than he intends and Luke bursts into tears.

Obi-Wan sighs and rocks the child. He doesn't know what to do. He knows almost nothing about force sensitive children this young and does not know if this is normal or a sign of something more ominous. He worries that this is his fault, that his attachment to Luke is the source of this.

"It is alright young one, I am not angry with you." He floods the bond with affection and reassurance.

Luke stops crying and lies on his shoulder, sniffling. No, he is not angry with Luke. He is angry with himself. For his fear, his indecision and his inability to detach himself from the boy. But most of all he is afraid for Luke. That he will lose him like he lost Anakin. That this time he will see what his apprentice is becoming and be unable to stop it. That he will not have the strength to do what must be done.

He is angry at himself because he does not think can bear lose another one.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: The reason I have not been updating is because my computer got a virus and died. So I lost all the info and all the poems I use for writing this fic. My friend is fixing my laptop but it is taking time and I had to hunt online for an appropriate poem for this chapter. Still not sure it fits but, that's life!**

_Do not go gentle into that good night,  
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light!_

_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_  
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_  
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light!_

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_  
_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_  
_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,_  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light!_

_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_  
_Curse me, bless me, now with your fierce tears, I pray._  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light!_

~'Do Not Gentle Into That Good Night,' by Dylan Thomas,

**Chapter 13:****Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light!—Part One**

The Suns will set in a few hours. Obi-Wan is in the small kitchen of the Lars house eating dinner with Luke. The boy is sitting in a highchair that was a gift from one of his students. he is grateful for it, since he no longer has to hold Luke in his lap to feed him. At thirty-two months old, the boy is a picky eater and does not hesitate to cover him with the objects of his displeasure. Though the boy seems content with his meal tonight, Obi-Wan is troubled.

The Tuskens have grown bold lately. If it were not for his Militia, Obi-wan knew that the attacks on the three large moisture farms would have resulted in more casualties. As it is, four people were killed. One of them was a student of his, a young man who was an excellent shot with his slugthrower. It seems several of the Tusken clans have united under a warlord as sometimes happens with their people.

This does not worry him so much as the strong Force presence he has been sensing.

Have the Sith come to Tatooine? It would be a logical conclusion. He would be less concerned if his instincts did not tell him that the Tusken's increasing attacks and the Force presence are related. For what purpose would Sith have with the Raiders? Darklighter keeps him informed on the garrison in Anchorhead and they have not received any off world visitors as of late. Not that a Sith would necessarily travel through official channels. But what could possibly be the connection?

"The most complex problems often have a very simple answer, which is generally why you have not thought of them yet."

He spins around, hand instinctively reaching for his lightsaber. There, standing next to the opposite side of the table, was his former master. Qui-Gon Jinn. He was transparent, like a hologram, but the familiar Force presence was unmistakable even after all these years. And he still speaks in riddles.

"Why are you here?" he says. _Why are you here now? Why did you not talk to me before?_

"I have."

"What?"

"I have talked to you before. Sometimes you heard, other times you did not wish to." Obi-Wan shakes his head. At another time in his life he would have felt anger but now he only feels disappointed acceptance.

"Why are you here?" this time he truly wants the answer. His master smiles gently.

"Why would a Jedi join a clan of Tuskens?"

Obi-Wan cannot help but feel a little irritated when the transparent image of his master fades away. He turns to Luke, who is starring at the spot where his master was just standing, with a blue bantha milk mustache. He laughs and wipes the child's face off.

"Jedi," the boy says, trying out the new word.

"Jedi, Jedi, Jedi." Luke pauses and looks at him, sensing his concern through their bond.

"Let's not say that word," he says, trying through their bond to impress upon the boy the importance of this.

"Bad word?" the boy says. They have had a similar conversation when Luke had picked up some rather colorful Huttese from some of his militia members.

"No, it is just…" he trails off unsure of how to answer. "It's an _unsafe_ word."

"Unsafe," the child repeats. He knows what it means, for Obi-Wan uses it often enough.

"Yes, it is unsafe…"

The realization hits him. The Force presence is a Jedi. And why would a Jedi join a clan of Tuskens?

Because he is a Tusken.


End file.
